History Lesson
by sdbubbles
Summary: Serena is astounded when a patient hates her, and when she realises why, she finds herself giving and receiving a lesson or two.


**A/N: This is probably one of the most random pieces of written. I just so happened to be thinking about my primary school history lessons, and learning about the Glencoe massacre. And I've seen this extreme behaviour first hand and I do not approve of it at all. 1692 was a _long_ time ago.**

**Sarah x**

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"Got another one from AAU," Chantelle poked her head around the office door. Serena groaned and got up. She'd been trying to start this paperwork all morning, and every time she got anywhere near it, another patient materialised from AAU. If she didn't know better, she'd have said Michael was doing that deliberately. But, after experiencing the madness of AAU first hand, she knew he was only keeping his unit running.

"Seonag MacDonald, possible ruptured appendix. AAU's overflowing so they sent her straight here," Chantelle explained.

"Oh, the joys," she grumbled, taking the file from the young woman. She strode over, her boots clacking against the hard floor. She put on gloves and felt the woman's abdomen, saying, "My name is Serena Campbell. I'll be your consultant for-" but he was cut short when he hands were thrown away by the patient.

"Don't touch me," Miss MacDonald almost growled at her.

"Excuse me?" Serena replied, confused as to what she was meant to have done wrong. The woman had sheer hate in her eyes.

"None of your lot are coming anywhere near me with a scalpel!" she answered, the Scottish accent coming out in her voice...ah. Now she knew what she was on about. How very odd. Years and years of being a doctor and she'd never once come across this issue in her career before. What the hell had happened to forgive and forget?!

"You _are_ kidding me?!" Serena exclaimed as it started to make sense in her head. She couldn't actually be serious?

"No. I want a different doctor," she demanded.

"It was three-"

"I don't care. I don't trust a single one of you. I would like to be treated by another doctor _please_," she insisted, laying thick sarcasm onto the niceties of that sentence.

"Fine!" Serena snapped, looking around her for another consultant. In her frustration, she didn't think about what she was doing. She pulled the nearest consultant by the arm and frogmarched his tall form, her hand digging hard into his back, over to this patient who hated her for something she'd never even done. "This is Mr. Hanssen. He's Swedish, so I doubt any of _his lot_ had anything to do with it. They were too busy recovering from the pillaging and plundering they did a few centuries before," she added bitterly.

She stormed off back to her office, glad for the small mercy that she had paperwork to distract her from her fury. Talk about holding a bloody grudge! She realised she signed her name on the paper with so much force that the pen went straight through it as she became more wound up over this madness.

She'd heard of people keeping this thing going, but she'd never seen it for herself, so she never actually believed anyone would hold _that_ against her. She tried to ignore it and get on with what she was doing, but it kept bugging her. Just then, Ric wandered in and sat at his desk, logging into his computer. She couldn't help but glare at him in her annoyance.

"Am I meant to have offended you, Serena?" he asked calmly, catching the look on her face.

"No," she replied, her tone clipped as she returned her attention to her work, willing the mountainous volume she'd accumulated since taking up the post of Hanssen's second to just melt away.

"Then why did you just give me a look of death?" he enquired politely. "Has Hanssen annoyed you?"

"When _doesn't_ he annoy me?" she reminded him. She said nothing else, not wanting to admit how petty her annoyance was. She continued to fill out and sign paper after paper after paper, until there was a sharp knock at the door. She rolled her eyes and threw down her pen. "Oh, for God's sake. Can't I get a moment's piece?" she muttered to no-one in particular. "Come in!" she barked.

Hanssen slipped in, and she had to take her eyes off him for just a moment so she didn't betray how upset she actually was at the assumption she had the same values as those that woman hated. "Would you care to explain why I was marched across Keller, and why I now have what feels like a bruise on my back, Ms. Campbell?"

Oh, God. She hadn't, in her temper, pushed him _that_ hard, had she? "She hates me. Nothing I say or do is going to changer her mind," she shrugged, finally resigning herself to the sad fact that some people just couldn't be convinced to let sleeping dogs lie.

"Do you know her?" Henrik asked, and she could have sworn she saw a flash of concern shoot across his dark eyes.

"Nope," she answered, returning to her paperwork. "Unlike her, I don't hate people because of their last name. I don't hold a grievance for what a bunch of idiots did three centuries ago."

"What?!" Ric exclaimed. This was precisely why she didn't want to say anything. She barely understood why some people kept this thing burning, so how could they comprehend it?

"What was that comment about my nationality in aid of? _They were too busy recovering from the pillaging and plundering they did a few centuries before_," Hanssen reminded her.

"That was out of order, for which I apologise."  
"No need. No offence was taking. It was rather amusing actually," he admitted, pulling up a chair to sit down. "I'm just curious as to why you took such a temper."

"As am I. If looks could kill, I'd be dead, buried and being eaten by worms right now," Ric grinned, obviously unable to help himself. Serena couldn't resist smiling at him; he obviously wanted to cheer her up.

"Do you know about the Glencoe massacre?" she sighed. Both shook their heads, so she felt compelled to continue. "In 1691, King William ordered all Scottish clans to pledge allegiance to him in return for being absolved of the Jacobite Uprising. The MacDonalds refused, still loyal to King James, who was exiled, much like I was," she added with a glare at Hanssen.

"Well, to be fair, the clan Chief went to do it on the last day but the guy refused to do it because he wasn't authorised. It was late by the time he got one of them to accept it. Anyway. In 1692, the regiment was led by someone named Campbell, and most of them weren't from the clan but the ones in charge, I think, were. They ended up at their doorstep and being good Highlanders, the MacDonalds took them in. Two weeks later Captain Campbell was ordered to kill everyone under seventy."

"Ah," Henrik said. "I take it this is what Miss MacDonald has against you?"

"She probably doesn't speak to anyone with my name unless forced to," she sighed. "I've heard of MacDonalds who refuse to speak to anyone with the name Campbell. I rather thought they were exaggerating," she admitted.

"This is ridiculous. It was, what? Three hundred and eleven years ago?" Ric pointed out.

"Some people just don't know when to simply let things lie," Henrik concluded. "You're right though; no-one is going to be able to change her mind. I think it best, for your sake more than hers, if I handled her case and you kept away from her," he reasoned. "She'll only offend you again if you attempt to talk with her."

"I'm not offended," she lied instantly, and heard a snort from Ric's general direction. Luckily for him, his pager started beeping and he was forced to get up. "Saved by the bell," she smirked to herself as he headed to the door.

"Take no notice, Serena," he advised her. "Three hundred years is a long time to hold a grudge."

Ric left, and Serena and Hanssen were left to ponder the wonders of the Scottish clan rivalries. To break the somewhat awkward silence, Serena asked him, "So what did your ancestors get up to?"

"Nothing much," he shrugged. "I recall my father told me as a child that Edward the Enigmatic came out of Orkney, barged into Angus, ate all the food and stole all the money, got back on his boat and headed down to England where he lived happily ever after with his wife Anya and their nine children."

His face remained straight, and Serena had no idea whether or not to believe him. "Are you serious?" she asked.

"Of course not!" he replied, a smile cracking across his face. Serena had to laugh at his deadpan sense of humour. She couldn't understand how he managed not to smile telling that one, "I have no idea what my ancestors did or did not do, and I have no wish to know. The past is nothing to do with us. It's the present and the future that matters."

"Why do you have to make it so bloody hard for me to be angry?" she sighed.

"Why do you feel the need to _be_ angry?" he challenged her. "Those men probably aren't even related to you, and if they are, it's extremely distant."

"I never expected anyone to hate me so passionately. Not even you," she remarked. "But _she_ does, and the thing that annoys me is that she doesn't hate me for who I am. I would understand that – there are a lot of things to hate," she admitted, referring to her manipulative personality and the sharp tongue in her head. "But she hasn't given it a chance because she doesn't like my surname."

"That's her problem," he immediately informed her. "And because of her prejudice, she's stuck with me instead," he joked. "If she doesn't see there's more to you than a name and a few smart words, that's her outlook. The rest of us see you for _you_, the good and the bad," he assured her, getting up to leave. She groaned and put her head in her hands, not wanting to think about it any longer. It was idiocy she refused to participate in. Henrik was right; she was going to stay away and, somehow, hold her tongue.

She heard him open the door, and he said, "For the record, Serena, I don't hate you," with a small smile. When he left, she let herself smile, realising it wasn't important if this woman hated her, because she now knew Henrik didn't hate her. Strangers didn't matter. Her colleagues and friends did.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


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